


Just A Little Bit

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Coming of Age, Crushes, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, kind of cracky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: *HIATUS WHILE FINISHING WRITING*All Yuuri wants is to become a professional ice skater, he doesn't have time for any distractions. Especially not heavily accented distractions. Especially not hot, Russian, much-older-than-he-is, (possibly a serial killer?) distractions. No way.OrThe Katsuki's are a very loving family so it's no surprise that they try to adopt their sad next-door neighbour, much to Yuuri's chagrin. How is he supposed to get over his stupid crush if the guy is at his dinner table practically every night?





	1. The Serial Killing Vampire Next-door

The first thing he notices are the moving trucks.

Huge vehicles, tires as big as hulahoops. Their engines growl like starving wolves and the mid-January air means that smoke rises from the heat insulated inside just the way it does in the onsen.

An obscene amount of FedEx boxes litter the overgrown lawn of the little house across the street. So, _so_ many cardboard boxes that Yuuri thinks that they must reach the sky. He stops what he's doing to simply stare _up, up, up._

A voice snaps him back down to the ground. The trunk of a car slams shut, and someone in a huge hoodie languidly paces up the pathway. Three men get out of the moving van, carrying an array of furniture inside: a luxurious looking couch, dressers, tables, chairs, and a bed.

The stranger watches them work, rapidly speaking into his phone; tone a little too loud to be friendly, but not quite aggressive (not that Yuuri can be sure if the conversation is either or since he can't for the life of him understand a word the person's saying). Yuuri's English is okay, if not a little shaky, but the voice outside certainly isn't speaking English.

 _Something... something... Yakov... something..._ followed by more unintelligible foreign words...

Finding the whole scene rather boring now, Yuuri goes back to doodling on his notebook - procrastinating doing his homework by brainstorming some song ideas to show Minako for his next dance piece.

When he looks down again, he meets the eyes of the stranger. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest - Yuuri pulls his curtains shut quickly. There's no real reason for him to be embarrassed - it's not like he was spying, at least not really. Anyone would be curious of someone new moving in.

In Hasetsu everybody knows everybody. The small town’s impenetrable, fluffy border is home to a community of people whose parents lived there, whose parents parents lived there, and so on. It's not exactly a go-to hotspot for visitors or immigrants.

Deciding the coast is clear, Yuuri peeks through the small gap in the curtains, dropping his gaze back down to the lanky body below. The guy is luckily still on the phone and no longer looking in Yuuri's direction.

There's some more heated, rapid-fire words thrown and then, finally, a big huff. The phone call seems to have reached it's conclusion, mobile slipping back somewhere into the depths of that oversized hoodie.

The last of the crates also appear to have been unloaded because the vehicles finally vacate, leaving behind a lone figure and his tower of boxes in the driveway.

* * *

The kitchen smells like a bakery, the smell drifts from one room to another, filling the house with that comforting, warm, _homey_ feeling. Yuuri follows the trail and catches the tail end of a conversation between his mother and older sister:

"Just go honey, the sooner you go the sooner you get back."

"Are you kidding me?" Mari scoffs, offended at the very idea. "You don't send a girl around _alone_ to a strange man's house!"

"Okay fine," Hiroko relents. "Yuuri will go instead won't you, Yuuri?"

Yuuri suddenly stops leaning in the doorway, cover blown. "I'll what?" he asks, not liking where this is going at all...

"Brilliant, it's settled then: Yuuri will go!" Mari pats him on the back and gives him a look that says 'don't you dare say no'. _Sorry Mari_ \- he doesn't think he wants to do whatever it is he's being cornered into doing. "Who knows? Maybe he'll like _you_ even better."

"Mari! That's an awful thing to insinuate about our new neighbour."

Mari shrugs. "We don't know him. He could be anybody. Expect the worst from everyone and then you'll never be disappointed."

Mari is full of fun little 'words of wisdom' such as this - oftentimes not exactly pessimistic, but maybe a little disillusioned. She's not a cynic, as Mari likes to remind everyone who labels her as one, she's a realist in a cynical world. One which makes it very hard _not_ be cynical.

Yuuri shuffles on his feet, and turns away from Mari to look up at his mother. "What?"

Mari thrusts a basket into his arm, "To go welcome the big bad wolf to the neighbourhood. Now off with you Little Red Riding Hood!"

* * *

"Hello!" Yuuri's voice is coated with sugar, sweeter than his mother's baked goods, hoping to warm their new neighbour up quickly so he can go back home.

It takes about two minutes for the guy to answer his knocking, and when he does, it feels incredibly suspicious. He answers like a criminal in those movies, you know, where the guys only creak their door open slightly, just enough so you can see their face but not what is behind the door. Yeah, same thing here.

Whoever he is, he doesn't stay beside the door to greet Yuuri. Instead he goes back to whatever he'd been doing previously. Yuuri stands there, dumbfounded, for a good solid thirty seconds. _Can he go in or...?_

"Hello?" He tries again.

The guy clears his throat, "Uh, yeah. I'll be right there." Still trying to compose himself, Yuuri nods before remembering he can't actually see him. "Alright, it's open!"

Yuuri's English isn't perfect but he takes that as a _yes_ , he can in fact enter. The door thuds as Yuuri pushes it open, it wobbles in place, and he lets out a sigh, muffled though by the door. Then the handle depresses and the door swings open slowly. His head pokes through.

Turns out, what the guy was previously doing, was just what anyone would expect a person who'd just moved to be doing: he's moving around furniture, making room for all those boxes. Both his hand and long, slender fingers look very pale, and he still has on the same dark grey hoodie Yuuri saw him arrive in this morning. Upon closer inspection Yuuri can see that, while his new neighbour moves rather gracefully, he pivots around with a slight limp...

Finally, the hooded figure stops lugging the table and turns to look at his visitor. All Yuuri can see of his face are his eyes. Those eyes dart across Yuuri's tiny, smiling face. _Keep smiling, Yuuri._ He reminds himself despite his stranger danger senses tingling.

Half a minute passes, then another.

The silence only makes this whole experience worse, it's deafening - intimidating even - and Yuuri doesn't think his face has ever been scrutinised by somebody so thoroughly before.

As if sensing his discomfort, the hoodie comes down and long, silver-spun now hair pools over narrow shoulders. He's much younger than Yuuri thought: irrefutably fair, with deep blue eyes decorating a pixie-like face.

He's…

He just _is_.

There's no other words for it. He looks like something off the cover of one of Mari's glossy magazines. _Surely people don't actually look like that!_ It's unnerving.

"Didn’t you hear me? I said hi."

His voice is something else. It's dipping the tip of a finger into melted wax and smiling as you watch it harden against your skin. If Yuuri could melt, right then and there, he would have. Yuuri shakes his head. _Pull yourself together, Yuuri._ He’s only a person. It’s only a conversation. It’s on-

The stranger moves closer, and Yuuri's brain immediately stops functioning. It begins a lengthy reboot cycle. Set jaw to slack, eyes to wide, _please go to your power options and press restart._

The guy mutters to himself in that funny language from earlier and Yuuri tries to follow (not that he can decipher anything). Instead Yuuri finally finds his voice and vaguely manages to ask him something in Japanese.

This time it's the guy's turn to look confused. "English?" Stranger asks.

Yuuri ponders on whether to say yes or no because neither would exactly be a lie, "Still learning," he decides on.

The stranger cocks an eyebrow at Yuuri and looks exasperated for a short moment. It makes Yuuri doubt just how welcome his presence is, but then he remembers that this guy had invited him in, not the other way around, so screw him if he decides to get ornery about the conversation.

"I'm afraid my Japanese isn't very good," the silver-haired man says apologetically. "Still learning." He parrots, throwing Yuuri's previous words back at him.

"No Japanese?" Silver smiles good-naturedly and shakes his head. Yuuri squints at him suspiciously, "Why?"

Yuuri realises the question may be rude, but he's curious in a way that only kids can be curious. _Who moves to a country where they don't know the language?_ Yuuri can't help but think that grown ups do stupid things.

" _Why_?" He repeats confused, then says, "Why don’t I know Japanese?" Yuuri nods. "Work," he says simply. "Work takes up all my time - not that that's an issue anymore."

Yuuri waits for him to elaborate - he doesn't. But what he gave Yuuri wasn’t an answer. It wasn’t. And Yuuri knows he knows that _he knows_  that he had successfully steered the conversation away from Yuuri's questions.

It's not like it's any of his business though - Yuuri shrugs it off, gestures to the bag of goodies from his mother (the very reason he was here in the first place), and the guy seems to get the picture. He gestures to the table he was moving before Yuuri came in and distracted him, and the eight year old places the welcome basket on the side.

"Thank you," the guy says finally, "I'm afraid I can't cook very well so I won't be able to whip up anything in return just yet - I'll be learning though... I suppose I have to now."

Yuuri guesses that no one else has come to see him yet, the town's new arrival seems out of place and even though Yuuri found him in his own house, he looks _lost_. Every now and again his replies veer off, and he's no longer having a conversation with Yuuri - more so just himself.

* * *

"Well? What was he like?"

Yuuri shrugs his small shoulders, "Nice, I guess."

Their exact exchange was... well, the details of that conversation, awkward and impossibly shameful as they are, shall remain Yuuri's and Yuuri's alone for the rest of time. If he told anyone, he'd have to kill them. Well, if he told them, they’d want to kill themselves. If he told anyone, they’d probably cringe to death, regardless.

"What's his name?"

"Uh," Yuuri pauses.

"You mean to tell me you were over there all that time and you didn't even get his name?"

Yuuri's pretty sure now wouldn't be a good time to admit he'd forgotten to introduce himself too.

* * *

When Yuuri gets home after hours and hours of practicing at Minako's studio - his routine is still spectacularly awful so far - with his leg muscles aching, toes bruised from plenty of footing mishaps, he's surprised to hear voices already coming from the dining room.

He's even more surprised when _four_ faces greet him as he enters. "Oh, here he is now," his mother chuckles, "you met Yuuri earlier I presume?"

Of course. Strange hoodie guy is there. Yuuri tries not to grimace.

"I did."

Yuuri sighs and nods, "I took the basket like you asked," he supplies as he slides into his seat. He tries not to look at their shiny new neighbour. He's so bright, it kind of blinds Yuuri momentarily. It would be a lot easier to ignore his presence if the guy wasn't also staring at Yuuri's face too.

"Good boy," Hiroko praises. Yuuri looks down at his plate, _it's not like he was exactly given a choice in the matter._

"Sorry I'm so late," Yuuri apologises suddenly. "Practice ran over a little today."

"It's fine, honey. See Viktor? It's just as I was telling you, our Yuuri is a very hard worker!"

Oh, okay so that's his name.

 _Viktor's_ eyes are still locked on Yuuri. Yuuri can see their new neighbour mouth his name once, twice, repeating it once more to himself as if testing it out, rolling the taste of it in his mouth and _goddamnit, brain, now is not the time to continue down that path._

"What is it you're practicing for Yuuri?"

Yes, Viktor's got his name down perfectly. _Too_ perfectly. _Damn it._

Yuuri remembers that Viktor had asked him a question, and that usually requires an answer: "Ballet."

"Wow! Amazing!" He says in a voice that's way too cheerful and animated to be real.

Yuuri smiles and looks away quickly. Mari kicks his leg under the table and flashes him this _look_. It's the same look she gives him before she throws a red shell at him during mario kart. He mouths back at her ' _what_ '. She just raises her eyebrows and makes two very obvious head nods towards their dinner guest. Yuuri looks at Viktor, back to Mari and repeats the ' _what_ ' gesture again. Mari puts her head in her hands.

"You're enjoying the neighbourhood then, Viktor? If there's anything we can do to help you feel more at home don't hesitate to knock on over here anytime. Anytime at all."

"Oh yes. You've been very helpful already Mrs Katsuki, I can tell already I've made the right choice moving here," His voice is soft, a little proud and a little bashful, but he sounds so _sure_ that Yuuri feels a momentary pang of jealousy before he gets the urge to bang his head against the dinner table. Mari is _definitely_ going to tease him, now.

"Oh Viktor please, it's Hiroko." Viktor flashes her one of those movie-star dazzlers again, and the round-faced woman continues. "So what's a young thing like you doing so far from home? Haven't you got a girlfriend missing you?"

There it is. Mari rolls her eyes on cue.

"No," he says carefully - he's got a smile on his face though, one of amusement. It's like he's in on some inside joke between only he and himself. "No girlfriend."

From the look on Mari's face, Yuuri assumes she's somehow in on this joke too. She kicks Yuuri under the table again, waggling her eyebrows and mouthing ' _told you he'd be more interested in you_ '; Yuuri chokes on his drink.

Viktor watches the exchange and grins wickedly to himself, as if he knows exactly what's going on in Yuuri's head. Yet, Yuuri has no idea what's even going on in his head, why he can't hold eye contact with his neighbour, why his palms feel so sweaty. It's weird. Maybe he's sick, maybe he should just retreat to his room.

"Yuuri, Yuuko called earlier. She said practice has been moved tomorrow morning from eight to nine, the instructor is sorry but he has to take his kids to nursery."

Yuuri nods, it's no surprise. His instructor's wife had fallen ill the night before and he had to cut practice short to go pick her up. He's a nice guy.

"Instructor, for ballet?" Viktor presses, turning his bright blues on Yuuri full-force. Perhaps no attention is better than any attention at all.

"Oh no, ice skating," Hiroko corrects. "Little Yuuri here is very passionate about it. He's just starting out but we're sure soon he'll be representing Japan in that competition, hmm," she turns to Yuuri, "what's that competition called again, dear?"

Yuuri can't help but notice that Viktor's eyes suddenly seem very downcast. Whatever, none of his business.

"The GPF."

Mari snorts, "Code for Gay Prancing Fools."

Their mother either doesn't hear her, or chooses not to. "Ah, yes. The GPF! Me and my husband don't know too much about ice skating ourselves but we know it makes our little Yuuri very happy."

"You have a rink here?" Viktor asks, a little surprised, but mostly looking sad/nostalgic? He looks almost as if he chose to move to Hasetsu because it doesn't seem like the kind of place to have an ice rink.

"Ice Castle," Hiroko nods. "Good family run the place, it's very welcoming. Yuuri's best friends with their kids. You should go sometime, Yuuri would be happy to show you the way, wouldn't you Yuuri?"

"It's not too far from here," he shrugs, it's not like Yuuri would mind taking Viktor there - except for the fact that going to Ice Castle looks to be the _very last thing_ Viktor wants to do.

"Oh no it's okay." Viktor protests suddenly. He looks so uncomfortable that Yuuri feels he has to change the subject.

"I'm sure he'd rather see the Ninja Castle." Yuuri finds himself saying.

" _Hasetsu_ Castle," Hiroko corrects.

"Takeshi says that ninjas actually live there," Yuuri protests, "he says he saw them training outside."

"Takeshi Nishigori has a very vivid imagination," Toshiya speaks up finally. "His father was the same, he told me that exact story as a child too."

"Ninjas? Really?" Viktor asks, the light has returned to his eyes and Yuuri feels the slightest bit of satisfaction that maybe he had helped ignite them again.

And when the others start debating whether there's ninja residents in Hasetsu Castle, all is forgotten about Viktor's melancholy. The silver-haired man shoots Yuuri a grateful smile over the table and Yuuri shakes his head, as if to say ' _no worries_ '.

* * *

When Yuuri arrives at Ice Castle, Yuuko's mom is on her shift.

Her kindly, tan face breaks into a smile as she lets Yuuri pass. Yuuko herself is already on the ice, living up to her nickname as the 'Madonna of Ice Castle'.

Long, slow, sweeping movements, practiced grace belaying every sway and turn. Her hands beautifully trace the air like petals in a benevolent breeze. She turns and pivots on her right foot, spinning and playing the tips of her blades across the ice striding about into an ever-collapsing ellipse.

Her body turns effortlessly into a single lutz, and Yuuko balances upon her toes, hand over her heart as she peels back, laying her free hand across her brow and her shoulder blades gutting at the action. Yuuri can almost hear the notes of the song drift along with each twirl.

Other skaters turn to stare at her and Friedrich Nietzsche's voice appears in his mind, narrating over the scene _'and those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music'._

Yuuri unconsciously lets go of the safety of the wall and lets his feet carry him off into the centre. Before he knows it, he's moving. He's gliding... He's falling... he's hitting the ice.

He's gets back up though.

He's much better than he was two lessons ago.

Yuuri glides away from the edge of the rink suddenly, little bits of ice whipping from his blades like a machine gun. He whizzes past Yuuko, plastering her face with a look of surprise.

"Yuuri!" Yuuko builds up her own momentum, glides, and lets out a little ringing laugh like bells as she follows Yuuri's path.

The crisp clean air becomes a battlefield of whizzing projectiles, with spinning bodies and ice. "And Katsuki sticks the landing," Yuuko laughs from beside the wall, launching into another twirl that shakes clouds of fluff from her blades.

"You take to the ice like a duck to water." A voice says from behind him.

Yuuri jumps, nearly slipping over again at the unexpected interruption. Was the person talking to him? Either way he vividly imagines a little duckling sliding across an icy pond.

The voice belongs to a man, who might be old but well preserved, or young and a bit crusty for his age, but whatever he is he certainly does not look it. It's definitely not Yuuri's instructor.

His hair is a dark grey with twin streaks of cloudy white. His eyes are narrow and set high _, high_ up on his face, making the rest of his face seem sparsely populated as a result. He does, however, have a wide, rubbery mouth, which seems to be doing it's best to make up the difference.

"When you start overthinking, you trip. But when this little boy dances he's no longer clumsy, he's graceful like a swan." The man orchestrates, copying the movement from Yuuri's program with practiced ease and finesse.

Yuuri doesn't know what to say to the guy so he doesn't say anything at all. He probably stares at him for a little longer than conventionally acceptable because he thinks he hears the guy mutter something like 'псих'. Now Yuuri doesn't really know what that means (he doesn't speak Russian), but he guesses it's probably not good.

Yuuri continues skating for a little while longer - as far as he can from the accented guy - his time spent on the floor to upright ratio embarrassingly high.

"You fall because you're scared," the man appears again, moving a slightly wrinkled hand through his grey and white hair. "You need to trust yourself. But don't look all sad that I'm telling you this," the man notes, "you misunderstand. Falling is _good_ \- falling is the first lesson students learn."

_Falling is learning?_

Yuuri doesn't expect a reply, he said that in his head after all, like he does most things.

"Practice falling," the man says as if he crawled into Yuuri's head and read the boy's thoughts, "falling is part of the sport. It's natural that this will happen. If you anticipate the fall bend your knees and squat into a dip position. Otherwise, put your hands out to break your fall but - remember - quickly clench your fingers into a fist. You don't want to risk losing them to a passing skater."

Yuuri looks down at his fingers in horror, automatically clenching them. Oh great. Now he's imagining them getting all sliced up.

"Also, push your arms out - much safer to fall."

The man's slightly incorrect syntax and accent make him seem wise somehow and Yuuri complies, falling to the ice with a much less vigorous impact than before.

"Good," the man notes. "Now you get back up. Getting up is the hard part. Staying up, _much_ easier."

The man is right. So he's a little wobbly on his feet, he's still on his feet!

"I don't think I'm very good at this," Yuuri calls after the odd man as he turns to leave. "It's only my fourth skating lesson."

The man turns around, taking off his skate guards, "So the boy does have a tongue, I had begun to wonder."

"Thank you for helping me," Yuuri says softly, "but I don't think it was worth your time. I'll never be a great skater when all I'm good at is falling."

The man gives one last sweeping look over the rink, the stands, everywhere: almost as if he's searching for something, and then turns back to Yuuri. "So often I have talked to people who really want to skate but who are afraid to. Every time I tell them the true secret to becoming a skater: if you get up and move, you are already skating better than anyone just sitting and watching. After all, you are moving and they are not. So move in a way that pleases you."

Yuuko puts a hand on Yuuri's shoulder and shakes him excitedly, "Do you have any idea who that was?", her grin is so wide that Yuuri swears it stretches from one ear to the other.

"Just a very strange man," Yuuri replies shaking his head. _Lots of them appearing lately._

Yuuko grabs his arm and pulls him over to the outdated skating billboard, plastered with multiple images of athletic people in ridiculous sequinned outfits, suspended midair over the ice. A man with shaggy black hair stands out to him, it's the man from earlier!

Yakov Feltsman.

"He's a skater?" Yuuri asks.

"Coach now!" Yuuko exclaims. "I wonder what he's doing all the way in Hasetsu. He's the most sought after coach in the world. All of his students: champions." Yuuko emphasises the word ' _champions_ ' with stars in her eyes. "You'll never guess who his wife is - well ex-wife..."

"A champion too?"

"Lilia Babara-"

"Lilia Baranovskaya!" Yuuri exclaims.

"I know! Amazing isn't it?"

Yuuri nods enthusiastically, he wonders what a guy like that is doing in such a small town like Hasetsu. It reminds him suddenly of the new man across the road.

Viktor is... _odd_.

After three weeks that's all Yuuri's brain can conclude. And _hot_ , a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminds him. _And_ _hot_ , Yuuri grudgingly concedes. Even Mari, who doesn't typically agree with Yuuri on much, had dubbed the guy as not just ' _Drummer_ ' but ' _Lead-singer Hot_ '. And, coming from Mari, that's high praise.

At first Yuuri didn't think of him as anything but another new neighbour but lately he's not so sure... he gets the feeling _something_ is up.

Viktor's house is silent and almost always dark aside from a low, warm light coming from one of the back windows. The house is kind of identical to the Katsuki's own, minus the hot springs and restaurant. The garage is also the same, except for the fact that both his large garage doors are locked up with a thick iron chain, completely inaccessible. Yuuri catches Viktor sometimes standing outside, fiddling with the locks. He looks like he wants to go inside, and simultaneously, like he wants to burn the garage to the ground and dispose of the ashes.

It's... strange to say the least.

He never leaves his house; yet, Yuuri occasionally sees him walking around late, _late_ at night, talking to someone or himself at odd hours. Nothing truly _creepy_ , just _different_. They catch gazes every once in a while and each time it makes Yuuri's stomach do backflips so Yuuri begins ignoring Viktor and his peculiar behavior.

He chalks it up to a guy who lives alone doing whatever it is guys do… maybe he's just playing video games all day or watching, um, well, you know...

"He's just a bit weird," Yuuri shrugs when Yuuko asks why he's so obsessed with him.

"Maybe he's a serial killer, or a vampire. Or - a serial killing vampire!" Takeshi suggests.

Yuuri sighs but the idea itself isn't that out there. The guy has a weird relationship with whatever he keeps in his garage. It wouldn't really surprise Yuuri if he was hoarding bodies or blood bags in there.

"He is pretty pale..."

"Didn't you say he had an accent too?"

"I don't think he's from Transylvania though."

"Here's what you do, you get him in front of a mirror and if he's got no reflection, you run. Mystery solved."

"I don't know about that," Yuuko doesn't hide the scepticism in her tone, "Maybe he's just one of those people. You know, the ones who prefer being alone. I don't think you should pry." She's always been the voice of reason in the trio.

Well, she's not exactly wrong either... At first, Yuuri figured Viktor was just another oddball, an _eccentric_ , someone who moved to Hasetsu for the privacy of a small town and the mountainous fresh air. Except he dresses like he means to kill someone, or someone means to kill him, regardless - there's going to be a murder. But not in a literal sense, more a metaphorical, figurative one.

He dresses like he hates small towns, and like they hate him too. Gone is the hoodie from move-in day, now it's all style and flair - the sort of casual but trendy clothes that only people with money can afford.

Sure, he’s pretty _charming_ , but what starts as a childish fascination, soon grows into unease, and Yuuri's starting to think he’s hiding from something.

Okay, so maybe Yuuri's scared of him... just a _little_ bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > псих; 'crazy' (i used google originally which turned out to be wrong, -surprisesurprise -so someone corrected me, if it's still not right oh well I ain't writing anymore Russian in this anyway)
> 
> > If you're going to moan about the age difference, save yourself the trouble of writing anything in the comments and me the bother of reading it: don't like, don't read
> 
> > just for clarification: I won't be writing anything underage here, that's gross


	2. Should I Stay or Should I Go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss my FF.net account. AO3 is so bad for formatting works and also this update isn't showing up *sighs*
> 
> **Potentially triggering content: Minako has a bad day and gets a little tipsy before lunchtime, I wouldn't class her as an alcoholic though she does show alcohol dependant tendencies**

“I'm an idiot.”

That's probably not the first thing Yuuri should say when he picks himself up from the ice. A _'hey I'm fine'_ or _'okay no broken bones'_ wouldn't go amiss here.

“What the hell was that?”

Yuuri's eyes sink to the ground, meeting the disappointed face of his coach had been a bad move. _Ouch_ disappointment is worse than when he’s thunderous.

“Yuuri, I asked you a question. What. The. Hell. Was. That?”

He sinks into himself hopelessly, embarrassment coiling in the pit of his stomach, “I don’t know - I messed up... I know. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask if you’d messed up.” That much was already obvious. “I’m asking _why_ you messed up. If you can’t identify your mistakes, how are you supposed to correct them?”

Yuuri’s face contorts into a question mark, it's not like he can magic up an answer he doesn't have. He just can’t seem to hack this stupid jump despite having the so-called 'harder' axel down.

Fausto sighs, “You bent the free leg during the three turn entry while allowing the three turn to almost spin the take off of the jump. I thought we’d broken that habit. You must learn to check the three turn, extend the free leg, and should be able to control the take-off of the jump by now.”

“Yes, Coach. I’ll do better next time. I promise.”

“You're done for today,” Fausto says first because Yuuri is already about to hop back on the ice and hightail it back around the rink. “We'll continue where we left off tomorrow.” He says more sternly.

“But –”

“Katsuki now.”

Okay. Okay. Yuuri steps away from the icy circle of doom. _Fine,_ he concedes, _no more skating... today._

Oftentimes, Yuuri + ice = an infinite number of disasters.

His instructor always tells him that he’s a fast learner, to which Yuuri chalks up to muscle memory and the pre-established discipline of ballet, but it's still nowhere near fast enough. Being at the very top of his ballet class versus averaging at skating is disheartening to say the least.

He was a dancer before he could walk - a skater… not so much.

Either way, he shoves his hands in his pockets and grumbles the entire way to the studio. If his skating instructor won’t let him continue practicing, he might as well go early to ballet.

“It's not fair. There's kids out there who can land doubles, maybe even triples right now.”

“You're talking about those stupid 'born-to-skate' kids again, aren't you?” 

 _Yes_ , “No,” he protests, averting his eyes from her piercing gaze.

Minako taps his slightly red nose, mumbles something about it growing and 'Pinocchio'. _Damn it_ , he doesn't know why he's never been able to lie to her and get away with it but he hasn't. Little lies slip past his parents easily but Minako weeds them out like a human truth-detector.

“Yuuri, half of those kids don't even want to do figure skating. They've been brain-washed by their parents. You know what they do?” Yuuri shakes his head so she continues, “They put them on the ice as soon as they can walk and don't let them off until they can get off themselves. Some kids just aren't strong enough so they turn into popsicles and die.”

He laughs; it takes a liar to know a liar, “No they don't.” 

“Okay maybe they don't,” she admits, defeated, "but they definitely don't get the same freedoms that you do. Those kids know nothing but practice, practice, practice.”

Yuuko's told him stories of these athletes: _"They're ice people, leave them out in the sun too long and they melt."_ He's not stupid. Yuuri knows what that really means, it means take away skating from them and they're wholly farcical - not even people. Take away skating and they're nothing.

The general skating community views them as obsessive. Yuuri simply admires their dedication.

“You should have done that to me.” If he didn't waste his time messing around with his friends, reading comics or playing video games (like a _normal_ kid) maybe he'd be better. In fact, maybe he'd be twice the skater he is today.

Extraordinary people don't waste their time doing ordinary things.

“All work and no play? That's never a good building block for a healthy mind in the future. You _chose_ skating and that's something those robots didn't get to do.”

She has a point - to an extent anyhow.

Those people he's read about have crazy-intense schedules. It's all home-schooling ( _meaning no school at all_ ), Russian Gymnast diets ( _meaning barely any food at all_ ) and skating pretty much from dusk to dawn ( _meaning no free time but for sleeping at all_ ). He probably wouldn't like that - and loving what you do is probably more important than being good at it... _Probably_.

“You're ten years old,” Minako reminds him as they tuck into lunch before practice. “You've still got plenty of time to learn kid.”

“I don't know about that. I only started two years ago and eight was already pretty late in the game,” Yuuri complains as he shoves a mouthful of rice down his throat, robotically chews and swallows. So what if he looks pathetic? He's frustrated. And hungry. And he hit his head when he fell; if he focuses in on that little black spot in the corner of his vision he can see stars. “The time a person can be a competitive single skater working towards national, international, and Olympic dreams is short. A 'window' is only open for a certain number of years. Doors are open a little longer for ice dancers, synchronised skaters, and pair skaters but I don’t _want_ that, I want to enter singles.”

It's why he's committed to such a strict training schedule and lessons. Young figure skaters working towards competing at the pre-preliminary level and above should skate before and after school and take at least one lesson a day. Many more private lessons are required for skaters like him who wish to medal in regional, sectional, national, and international figure skating competitions. Yuuri's currently in group sessions but he's considering some private sessions when he feels more confident.

It's common for elite level skaters to work with multiple coaches, more than one lesson a day is the norm for those trying to get to the top. Yuuri can only afford one coach and one lesson a day so he tends to go back to the rink, perfecting rougher skills himself.

Wasting valuable ice time and potentially holding himself back is not an option.

"Eight wasn't that late, kids older than you are only just starting lessons now and some of them are complete beginners. That's not what you were when you started."

"I know I skated recreationally before taking the sessions with a qualified coach but I still have to work twice as hard as anyone else to really 'make it'.”

"I'd be careful not to overdo it,” Minako advises, "figure skating is beautiful on the ice but brutal on the body.”

Yuuri nods, while figure skating is not a contact sport, like football or ice hockey, the injuries can be just as brutal.

One bad fall and any dreams of becoming a gold medallist fly out the window. High-level skaters may skate for at least two to three hours in the morning and return to the rink for two to three more hours in the afternoon. Along with off-ice conditioning and off-ice dance class - it's a recipe for some sort of muscle strain.

“Funny you should say that. Kind of fell today during my salchow.”

Minako raises a perfectly arched brow, “You fell? Idiot –“

“That was my reaction,” he quips; Yuuri’s picked up a fair few mannerisms from Minako. And no, it’s not such a bad thing. Her aloof nature sometimes comes in handy.

“You spend way too much time here kid, soon you’ll be an old spinster too.” Yuuri resists the urge to roll his eyes, Minako is hardly a spinster. She’s not even forty. “As I was saying idiot boy, what are you doing here after taking a fall?”

“My instructor didn't seem too concerned.” Sure, he sent him home. But he said he could come back to the rink tomorrow. “It's nothing serious.”

Minako shrugs, “That's because Fausto cares about two things in this world: himself and his family. You are neither of those things.”

Yuuri wants to disagree with her. Wants to tell her that while skating your rink mates _are_ family but he can't find his voice in the moment. Minako isn’t the same as Fausto, she _is_ family to him in all but blood.

“Your salchow any better anyway?”

Yuuri shrugs, “It was until I was sent home. I don't know. It's my own fault; I wouldn't let myself stop even though I knew my limits were being tested.”

When he closes his eyes he’s back in the moment: _the three turn, stopping momentarily with his free foot extended behind and Takeshi calling, “You going to jump or what?” Swinging his free leg forward and around with a wide scooping motion, lifting off the ice. Unfortunately realising a little too late that relying on the three turn to do a Salchow is not a good idea. Especially when you’re already tired._

“At this point I don't expect anything less from you Yuuri," she says shaking her head, "it's not such a bad thing. All athletes, regardless of the sport, share a common trait: an unwillingness to give up, persistence,” Minako says, reminding Yuuri of just why she received a 'Benois de la Dance' and of course, why she’s his favourite person outside his household. He likes to think that he’s her favourite student too, and not just because his mother and Minako are old school friends, but because she just has a soft-spot for him. “That is what drives elite athletes. No athlete I know would give up by choice.”

It's a good thing that Yuuri doesn't believe in giving up. He believes in working harder.

* * *

"Hey, Yuuri look! I can eat garlic bread,” isn’t the weirdest line he’s been greeted home with over the past two years. The ten-year-old has got used to dealing with this sort of thing by now. Viktor and Mari deep throating herb-coated breadrolls? Not at all out of the ordinary.

His sister and Viktor weirdly became fast friends, a truly awful combination if you asked him.

“That’s nice,” Yuuri responds, purposefully not looking at either of them. They know he’s on a low carb diet and he’s already had rice today so he can’t afford to eat bread. He rifles through the kitchen, looking for that prepped meal he’d thought he’d hidden well. It should still be there. Mari claims to be allergic to anything healthy anyway. “Thanks for rubbing that in.”

For some inexplicable reason, this sets Mari off into some giggling fit. Mari doesn’t giggle. Ever. _Laugh it up_ , Yuuri thinks spitefully, he’ll be the one laughing when he places next month. _If_ he places.

Viktor struggles to keep a straight face, “Just you know, assuring you that I'm not a vampire."

Yuuri's ears burn in recognition. "You told him?" He turns to Mari and glares.

The comic books were their secret – she promised!

… Along with the cross, garlic necklace, and holy water.

It was all Takeshi’s fault anyway. After he planted the idea in his mind Yuuri started to notice the signs. Pale skin, overzealous eye contact, only coming out when the sun goes down, and above all the unreasonable amount of expensive cologne intended to cover up the smell of death… Jesus Christ, after binging all of _Buffy The Vampire Slayer_ Yuuri was so wired that he'd probably have pinned his own mother for a vamp.

What had eventually put to bed any ideas about Viktor being a secret mass murder was something unexpected, large and... fluffy.

_“Makkachin, no!”_

_The dog ignores his owner, and instead meets Yuuri's eyes. The child and the dog telepathically share a moment, both coming to the same conclusion: Makkachin, yes. She pants up at Yuuri with squinty brown eyes, peering out from the soft, furry curls of her face. A pink tongue lols out of the poodle's long, jowled muzzle. She looks like a chocolate sheep, with unreasonably huge ruffs of curly mocha-coloured fur._

_Yuuri can't believe this. Viktor has been here for a while now and not once has he introduced Yuuri to his dog. As a kid, he finds this completely unacceptable. There should be a law about this sort of thing. Viktor looks panicked when Makkachin jumps up, sending both herself and Yuuri toppling over onto the grass. The dog licks at Yuuri's cheek and he giggles and rolls over, the poodle following suit._

_“Makka, no,” Viktor squeaks and tries to pull her away quickly. Yuuri laughs when Makkachin just sits in front of him, staring and wagging her tail excitedly. Yuuri scratches the dog’s head. "Hey Yuuri!" says Viktor when Yuuri doesn’t say anything to him. "Can I, uh-" he pauses awkwardly and laughs – “Can I have my dog back?”_

_Yuuri cuddles the giant puppy - because every dog is a puppy no matter how old they are - closer to his chest. “I think she likes me better now.”_

_He wants a dog. Why does Viktor get a dog?_

_No Viktor you cannot take this dog back - Yuuri intends to steal her away, forever and ever._

_Viktor looks in exasperation between his dog and the boy: their adorable embrace is kind of endearing. He half-smiles. "I’m almost tempted to let you keep her." Makkachin doesn't seem too opposed to this idea. Her tail thumps excitedly against the floor and she tries to scoot closer to Yuuri. There isn’t honestly much closer she can get unless she finds a way to get inside Yuuri's skin. Her nose is practically touching Yuuri’s own. "This is why I walk her at night, she's way too loose with her affections," Viktor wags his finger at the dog, "breaking hearts everywhere, aren't you girl?"_

_"That's what you're doing outside at night?" Yuuri laughs. It suddenly explains one of those vampire symptoms, "walking your dog?"_

_"What did you think I was doing?" Viktor asks, then unfortunately seems to take in exactly what Yuuri has just said, the Cheshire-cat's grin morphing onto his face. "You've been watching me?"_

_Like Viktor doesn't already know. Yuuri sees Viktor see him watching him. However, Yuuri's still a little mortified/dumbfounded. How does he respond to being called out on this habit? Does Viktor think he's a stalker? Makkachin seems to sense Yuuri’s anxiety and responds by trying to comfort him. Except that means trying to clamber onto Yuuri's lap again. Which is an issue when Viktor is already freaking out about his dog trying to suffocate him._

_Somehow when trying to reign Makkachin back in, the leash tangles around Viktor's long legs. And when the dog darts to the side, evading capture, the rope causes Viktor to stumble and land in a heap of limbs right in front of Yuuri. His balance is already fairly bad for someone so young.Viktor looks at Makkachin accusingly, like the dog did this on purpose. Makkachin looks back, big liquid eyes equally as intense as her owner's, looking rather proud of herself._

_Maybe she did do this on purpose._

_Yuuri swallows, feeling the heat on his cheeks move upwards to his ears as he looks up. Now it's his turn to be skittish.The sunlight frames the not-quite-a-man in front of him, and Yuuri stands up quickly. The sudden movement makes him dizzy briefly, and he staggers back down to his seat on the ground. Viktor laughs, actually laughs at him, before plunking down on the concrete beside him._

“It was too hilarious not to,” Mari says unapologetically, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“Now I’m checking _your_ teeth for fangs,” he mutters.

“Only crazy people believe in things they can’t see,” Mari nonchalantly replies, expecting to get some sort of raise out of Yuuri. Unfortunately for her, he’s already heard this gem from her before so the siblings have already had the whole ‘seeing isn’t believing, believing is seeing’ debate.

Viktor cuts him some slack, “If it makes you feel any better I used to think someone I knew was a zombie because they had a really light complexion, blue lips and constant black eyes.”

Yuuri still struggles to meet Viktor’s eyes nine times out of ten so he keeps himself busy, unpacking his backpack and pretending to search for his headphones. He nods out of politeness and as confirmation he heard him; Yuuri may be shy but he’s not rude.

"That's alarming." Mari concedes, pursing her lips. "Maybe they were an actual zombie."

"Nah, turned out Georgi just really liked makeup. He just wasn't that great at it." Yuuri and Mari share a look and yes, she’s remembering her short-lived panda-eyed phase too. As Yuuri is contemplating whether or not to bring it up as revenge for exposing his Dracula infatuation, Viktor crosses the room and grabs his jacket. “Well that’s my shift done,” the Russian says, now finished wiping down the tables.

Yuuri honestly doesn’t know how he and Mari get any work done but Viktor's decent enough, he seems like a good person - even if it had turned out that he murders people and pops their bodies in a freezer in his garage.

He looks much happier than he did when he first arrived in Hasetsu two years ago. Yuuri's mother has that effect on people: she's like the scent of lavender, the soft lingering calm of incense, the sound of a running stream. Yuuri’s always busy so he thankfully?/regretfully? doesn’t see his neighbour much or know the details but he does know that Viktor had made good on his goals to improve his Japanese and culinary skills with the help of Hiroko. Last year, Viktor was even good enough at both that he started helping out at the restaurant.

It's clearly doing him some good.

The Fire Department also has only been called once and honestly? Yuuri doesn't think that was Viktor's fault. Mari's going through a bit of a anti-authority phase and if the cigarette butts under the gutter outside are anything to go by, he's fairly certain that she had to learn the hard way that there's smoke detectors inside the restaurant. Just like she learnt you shouldn't bleach your own hair at home with cheap dye when you have no idea how long to leave the peroxide on for...

... Being a teenager doesn't look fun. Yuuri hopes he doesn't want to do silly things like that when he hits puberty.

Mari makes _Viktor_ seem normal and he's like an octopus - no joke. Guy has no boundaries with anyone.

On the bright side, he's no longer creepy hoodie guy: the one who talks to himself and burrows himself away from the world. He's Viktor; who jokes with Mari over his mother's home-cooked food, who has long conversations with his dog at night, who sometimes wears elaborate braids in his moonlight hair.

He’s his big sister’s best friend and familiar in a way that only someone who spends so much time around the house can be.

Despite their age-difference, Viktor always makes an effort to talk to the youngest Katsuki and Yuuri always makes an effort to talk back, despite how awkward it can be at times. Yuuri’s not even sure whether its him or Viktor who makes their conversations awkward – all he knows is that Viktor can talk easily with everyone except for Yuuri so it’s probably his fault.

* * *

**2003 Central Japan Figure Skating Championships (men’s class 2)**

Okay. So turns out that competition jitters are a thing? A very real thing. A thing that makes Yuuri wish that he had never signed up for figure skating ever.

His lutz becomes a flutz and he winces because out of all the elements, that was one which came pretty easily to him.

Now he's heard the stories of nerve-induced spills but Yuuri didn't think it would happen to him. He can do this program in his sleep, and felt completely comfortable before his [music](https://youtu.be/p79JYE2jkzw) started. Now his legs don't feel like his own.

He wants to slap them and yell, _come on you're my legs aren't you?!_ But that would make him seem unhinged (and probably make him lose a few PCS points) so he keeps going.

 _I'm better than this_ , he reminds himself, _I'm better than this._

He bites his lip when he steps out of his flip, becoming increasingly frustrated at himself because when he ran this program through practice, he knows that he'd landed that jump cleanly ninety percent of the time. Why isn't all his hard work and practice shining through?

Why is it when it comes to the actual competition, everything changes?

His surroundings function as a giant Rube Goldberg machine of sorts and work against him. 

He doesn't need to look at his score to know that he's failed.

* * *

Winter is in full swing and so is Novice season.

One mishap doesn't mean everything is ruined, right?

There's still another two competitions he plans to enter.

_"No athlete I know would give up by choice."_

He doesn't believe in giving up, he believes in working harder. 

He doesn't believe in giving up, he believes in working harder. 

He doesn't believe in giving up, he believes in working harder. 

He repeats this mantra until he can feel the buzz of anticipation to get back on the ice tingle all the way down to his toes.

He's excited to try again. He's excited to prove himself.

Yuuri rushes straight to the edge of the rink... _Ahah!_ Just as he'd hoped, the zamboni is just finishing up, sending powdery white flakes flying in it's wake; pieces swirling through the air in a delicate ballet. The ice is crystal clear - smooth, no bits of yesterday's marks peeking out from underneath. He presses his face up to the glass, letting the icy coolness spread to his nose.

If he imagines hard enough maybe he can pretend that the zamboni is smoothing down his imperfections too.

The rink is completely unmarred by footprints or anything else, and there's nobody in sight yet. Yuuko always tells him that skating first on fresh ice is good luck.

Couldn't hurt to try.

He's never gotten out of his normal clothes and into his training clothes faster. He flies down the ramp (Well, waddles is probably a better word, considering how he's all bundled up from being outside), with his thick black pants and jacket making a swishing sound as the heavy fabric brushes together. He strips and feels motivated again - he'll be ready come next competition.

* * *

  **2003 Saga Governor Award Championships (boys’ A class)**

Every competition, scrap that, every _skate_ is an opportunity to reinvent yourself on the ice.

This time round he only just misses out on the podium. Yuuri finds he's not as disappointed as he could be. Fourth place is much easier to take home than last.

Fausto can work with that.

* * *

**2004 Japan Novice Championships: Novice B Category, [Nagano]**

Out of all the competitions Yuuri has participated in thus far, this is the one which really counts. This is the one which will put him on the radar – not only to competitors, but also to future coaches.

He’s medalled in a few B competitions scattered throughout the season, mostly novice or lower, but those weren’t _JSF Championships_. It’s only novice level but this is insane, just _insane_. He's facing his biggest crowd yet at Big Hat arena and real-life Champions are here too (since simultaneously as novices takes place, so do Juniors). Real life Junior skaters - some who will be competing in the GFP and Olympics. The kind of skaters Yuuko always wistfully talks about, the kind of people that coaches like Yakov Feltsman train.

_No pressure. No pressure. No pressure._

Positive affirmations only. No matter how silly/outlandish.

He has practiced and now he is ready. He has everything under control. Yuuri repeats this to himself to prevent negative thoughts from creeping in.

_He is going to skate so great today that Frank Carroll will beg to be his coach._

* * *

Yuuri is twelve when Takeshi gets his first girlfriend.

The whole thing doesn’t exactly last long and Yuuri’s not even sure how his friend gets roped into that relationship. It seems natural in a way, they’re at that age when the opposite sex is somewhat more _apparent_ to them.

Yuuri doesn't exactly see the appeal himself but he guesses that girls are okay. He means, if he had to pick between Takeshi and Yuuko then he'd pick Yuuko obviously. It's a no brainier. He doesn't consider himself different to anyone else in that respect. 

Except until his dad brings it up over dinner, "I hear from Mr Nishigori that Takeshi has a girlfriend now."

"He does," Yuuri hums noncommitally.

"So anyone you've got your eye on son?"

So _this_ is where he was going with it. 

Beside him, he can hear Mari cracking up under her breath, and without having to look, he can feel Viktor’s eyes on him the entire time. Unlike everyone else, Viktor stays quiet.

"What about Yuuko?" His mother presses, "She's a very nice girl and you two seem very close."

His heart is beating way too fast for comfort but he thinks he does pretty well at concealing it. He plays it cool and disinterested. "Uh, yeah. She's pretty and cool."

"Yeah sure but do you like-like her?" Mari teases with a faux innocent expression on her face.

Yuuri doesn't really know what she's asking. What's the difference between like and like-like and even love? They're all more of the same. Love is what happens when you really really like someone and you want to spend all day with them, right? When even if you're hungry you share your food with them? When it makes you happy to see them happy? If that's what like-like means then _sure_ he like-likes Yuuko.

"Well?" Mari prods him with her elbow.

"I like-like her," he mumbles and his dad claps him on the back like he does when he does well in his exams - but he hadn't just got above ninety percent in an essay or maths paper. Yuuri doesn't understand what he did, he only said that he likes his friend. Why shouldn't he like his friend? Why are his mum and dad grinning at each other like that? 

Mari is already making kissing noises and improvising several variations of ‘Yuuri and Yuuko sittin’ in a tree…’

For a second, Yuuri glances at Viktor to gauge his reaction and Viktor peers back at him with an encouraging smile, giving him a thumbs up. Yuuri's stomach twists up into a knot without any warning, he quickly looks away.

And when Takeshi stops sitting with Yuuko and Yuuri at lunch so he can 'make-out' with Hana Takahashi behind the bleachers, it doesn’t change anything and yet it marks the start of everything changing. 

This is the year Yuuko cries for the first time in front of him. For seldom selfish reasons, Yuuri wishes those two events were related. The reality is much worse.

Ice Castle isn’t doing as well as it could be.

“I overheard my parents talking and I don’t think we can keep it open for much longer,” Yuuko tries to smile but the tell-tale signs of someone on the verge of tears betray her. Her voice cracks, her eyes glisten and Yuuri hates himself because there’s absolutely nothing that he can do.

Worst of all is that it’s not just the rink that’s suffering…

   .

**thejapantimes: NEWS | NATIONAL/SOCIAL ISSUES |**

_**Why you should care about the shrinking population in Hasetsu, Japan** _

_by LIONEL FAULL | Tuesday 30 March 2006 | 19:47_

[Click here to view: At a glance | Top tips to urge talented workers to remain at home]

 _SAGA PREF- Japan’s birth rate is falling. Many point to unromantic 20-somethings and women’s entry into the workforce, but an overlooked factor is the trouble the young face in finding steady, well-paid jobs. The challenge of the “brain drain” from the rural to the big city, in some parts of the country, is very real._   

 

> The closure of local libraries, museums and theatres were just the beginning of the end for small towns such as Hasetsu located in the Saga Prefecture. As financial resources dwindle, more and more young people are choosing to flee the nest to seek work elsewhere, taking with them their able-bodies and own economic footprints to put back into the local economy. The latest victim of the declining economy are not only leisure activities, but a once sacred healing place during the Edo period: Hasetsu’s hot springs. All but three onsens now remain open with the future looking bleak for their continued use.
> 
> Brain drain is often described as the process in which a country loses its most educated and talented workers to other countries through migration. This trend is considered a problem, because the most highly skilled and competent individuals leave, and contribute their expertise to the economy of other countries. The countries they leave can suffer economic hardships because those who remain don't have the 'know-how' to make a difference. Brain drain can also take place internally as the loss of the academic and technological labour force through human capital flight as the skilled move to more favourable geographic, economic, or professional environments. More often than not, the movement occurs from rural areas to inner cities and the aging population adds extra strain **......** **Read more**

.

This is the year Yuuri’s training has really stepped up too. Now he’s really training to _train._

Technically juniors would only be a year away if he were a better skater, however, he still needs to prepare for the qualifying competitions for re-entering the Novice season. He already knows that he wants to postpone his Junior debut until he can land all his triples, meaning he needs to find a new rink and fast to maintain his current fitness level and _practicepracticepractice_.

Problem is: Hasetsu is close to nowhere.

To find a new home rink he’d have to be physically closer to the city to avoid reducing his training time. Travelling everyday just wouldn’t be practical, nor cost effective.

"What if Ice Castle really closes?" Yuuri asks Yuuko as they lay sprawled under the twilight sky. Practice ran so late he gave up going back for dinner at Yu-topia altogether. Yuuko passes him a bento box and he opts for resting his head on his balled-up jacket, frozen grass grazing his fingertips so cold they almost seem wet.

"What if it never does?" Yuuko asks, turning her head slightly to look at him. "What if it stays open infinitely, like some never-ending Doctor Who paradox?"

They hear the distant sounds of Takeshi slapping one of the older hockey boys into the ground, and the subsequent laughter of  _Hide, I’m so sorr—oh my God the side of your face is red_. Yuuri says, finally, “We’d get to skate forever.”

"We’d have no lives," Yuuko shoots back.

"This  _is_  our life,” Yuuri says, and—

There is a silence as realisation sinks in. Yuuko turns her eyes back to the sky. “You really like how that sounds?" Yuuri's not sure how to reply because he does. "Don't turn into an ice person on me Yuuri."

Skating has the potential to become everything - the possibility of it being ripped away does nothing to shake his nerves.

The whole thing is such a mess.

He tries to not let it affect his skating.

He fails: placing fifth during the 2005 Saga Figure Skating Competition in the men’s C class after not only falling during his FS but making countless mistakes – completely unnecessary deductions – all because he’s distracted.

Real athletes don't get distracted.

It’s not as bad as last place during his first competition but it’s still _not good enough._  

* * *

He's not even in the room yet and he can already hear his sisters' outburst. 

“It’s just plain selfish! We _all_ live here –“

Yuuri's breathing hitches, and he jumps backwards in surprise when behind him, someone cups their hands over his ears. It’s a futile attempt to protect Yuuri from the conversation going on in the kitchen but he appreciates their effort.

He can still hear the voices, albeit much quieter, “Mari it’s not selfish, this is your little brother’s dream. We’d do the very same thing for you.”

The warm body behind him spins him around and Yuuri's not surprised to see who it is. His silver hair is unmistakable.

"She doesn't mean it," Viktor tells him. 

 _She does_ , "I know," he lies. Why Yuuri never says how he truly feels is beyond him. Maybe he's afraid that if people see what he's really thinking they'd think he was abnormal. He's not stupid but sometimes it's better to play stupid and skip the pointless lectures which will do nothing to convince him of anything but his own view (which is usually right).

"No you wouldn't," Mari throws back. There’s so much bitterness in her tone that Viktor, looking unsure of what to do, reaches out and pulls Yuuri into a hug. 

This really isn't the time to be noting this but Viktor smells _amazing_. Like home and heat buried under surface notes of wood smoke and brown sugar. Yuuri is glad the hallway is dimly lit because right now the heated discussion in the next room and poor lighting is distracting Viktor from his warmed cheeks, keeping them just out of view.

Awkward silence and family discourse makes for a strange, almost humorous mix as Yuuri looks at Viktor, and he looks back and neither of them quite know what to do with themselves. Viktor lets him go and Yuuri almost misses his comforting embrace.

"Between us," Viktor speaks in a low tone, trying not to carry his voice across to the next room, "she's mostly annoyed because she said no to Art school to continue running Yu-Topia with your dad and now there's going to be no Yu-Topia -"

"She gave up Art school?" Yuuri repeats horrified.

"It's not your fault Yuuri, she made her choice not to accept her placement - you made yours," he doesn't sound like he's accusing Yuuri or anything like he should be.

Viktor should be guilt-tripping him on Mari's behalf. She sounds like she needs someone fighting in her corner.

Even Yuuri can see her side. Skating is unbelievably expensive - even without the possible move and new house on top of everything else. He can't expect her to be okay with it when his parents don't even give her money to go to concerts.

"It _is_ my fault," Yuuri says softly, it's at least the most honest thing he's said to Viktor - maybe ever.

He doesn't expect Viktor to speak again, but he does, "Someone once told me that success is a ladder very few people can ascend," his mirror-blue eyes reflect nothing of what he’s saying, it's as if he's somewhere else entirely for a moment, "sacrifices are always necessary. It's not like you can just let yourself be pulled down by the people who don't know how to climb," he tilts his head and adds in afterthought, "or fall."

His mother's voice passes through the walls like a ghost, thin, wavering and gentle. "Parents don't have favourites Mari, especially not us. We love you and Yuuri the same. Always have."

“Oh really? Prove it." Mari’s anger swells and fills the room, the house, the entire town, making her seem three feet taller than she actually is. Yuuri winces, braces himself for the screaming which doesn't come. "I want to stay here,” she says calmly and it's somehow scarier than her loud voice.

“You’re not being very fair to Yuuri. We’ll make it up to you, you’ll make new friends in Tokyo-“

Yuuri can’t hear any more of this. His eyes are wide and red-rimmed and Viktor doesn’t try very hard to stop him from leaving. 

It takes less than a millisecond to fall apart, for everything to come crashing down all around you and it's remains to float like foam which burns your wounds like salt. It stings like hell but he's not going to cry. Mari’s right. He understands her frustration. He shouldn't make everyone up their lives and move for him.

But she's also right that he had expected them to, and that's selfish in itself.

Maybe it's more selfish of him to care more that Mari voiced her opinion on the matter than just going along with it.

He still _wants_ them to go along with it - he just doesn't want Mari's resentment.

More than that, he wishes it could all be unheard so he could continue pushing for the move guilt-free. This makes him a bad person. Deep down he knows it does because he's perfectly okay with hindering Mari's life to benefit his skating prospects. 

* * *

**2005 Kyūshū Regionals**

Luckily, the Katsuki’s won’t have to move anywhere – but if he wants to continue skating competitively, Yuuri himself will.

“Yuuri, this is my brother Celestino,” Fausto introduces a man of similar stature to himself; they share the same angular face, square chin and expressive light green eyes. The only real difference being where Fausto’s hair is cropped close to his head, Celestino has a long taupe ponytail. “He’s recently ended things with a student and is looking for new talent – I recommended you.”

“You recommended me?” _Instead of Takeshi or Yuuko or quite literally anyone else?_

“Haven’t you listened to me once over the past four years? I’ve always said you’re a superfluous student – you go above and beyond what other skaters I’ve taught do.”

Guilt knaws at him like a dog on a bone, “But what about Yuuko?”

This was her dream first. She deserves to be the one to 'make it'.

“A great skater indeed,” Fausto pauses, “but,” anything anyone says before ‘but’ is meaningless at the end of the day, “she doesn’t have the makings of a Champion.”

 _And I do?_ Yuuri thinks.

“Of course,” apparently Yuuri had voiced his thoughts because Fausto is answering his mental question, “otherwise I wouldn’t be wasting my own time recommending you. Now, stop selling yourself short and don’t let me see you throw away all of that potential."

It goes unsaid but Yuuri can feel it in his coaches' gaze. _"Don't make me regret choosing you over her."_

_Can he accept that he's really got more potential than his best friend?_

"This girl, Yuuko was it?" Celestino butts in and Yuuri likes him already for not just writing her off.

Fausto doesn't take the opportunity to sell her as well as she deserves, "She's tall for her age - a year older than Yuuri. Talented for sure but she'll never go as far as he can."

He says _tall_ and _older_ like they're a bad thing and _talented_ like it's meaningless.

 _She's not that tall_ , Yuuri wants to say. She's just tall in comparison to him.

"I'd love to see her compete eventually, but right now it doesn't seem like it'll happen anytime soon."

Celestino ponders on this for a moment, stroking his chin. "Any jumps she could do before starting puberty?"

Girls face the challenge of growing before boys. Men can learn different, more strenuous jumps after puberty because their shoulders and upper body grow. Upper body strength is important to pull yourself into the air to rotate. Women usually gain weight on their hips and breasts; affecting how they jump and rotate.

Lots of well known coaches have stated in interviews which Yuuri's read that women need to learn their jumps while they are young in order to keep them during their senior career.

An idol of Yuuko's, Mei Itō, learned the triple axel at around thirteen years old and that's why after puberty she can successfully land it.

"She's got most of her doubles, some that definitely still need work. A very nice double lutz. But the girl's physical strength maxes out way lower than the boy's does, making it not as likely to become a consistent jump she could land in competition."

So this isn't even about Yuuko - this is about Yuuri. The duo have been unknowingly competing all this time.

"Triples?"

Fausto shakes his head, "Simply put, she just doesn't have the physical strength to get herself up and around three full times. She's practiced them," Fausto doesn't let Yuuri practice triples! "- but it's fairly rare that she's able to propel herself with enough force to get the full rotations."

"That's a shame," Celestino says gently.

Yuuri's head is a million miles away from his body. He barely registers that his name is being called, a man with a clipboard tapping him on the shoulder advising him to take off his skate guards wakes him up as his thoughts only get darker. 

_So this is what it is to push someone down so you can rise up._

On autopilot, Yuuri makes his way onto the ice.  _No pressure_ , he thinks as the [music](https://open.spotify.com/track/2RWKekfp5736ok2X0ekUYA?si=a3k3LHtC) starts. This is only his future versus his best friend's.

It's Mari and Art school all over again.

_"Someone once told me that success is a ladder very few people can ascend. Sacrifices are always necessary. It's not like you can just let yourself be pulled down by the people who don't know how to climb."_

His first jump, he lands without a hitch.

The desire to succeed festers under his skin and pumps through his veins before he can stop it. His aura is _blackblackblack_ and he's sure he must radiate swirls of evil. He imagines his own personal omnipresent cloud, hanging comfortably over his head. It materialises rain and thunder in sync with the music...

The strings crash and he drops into favourite spin (albeit the one he's struggled the most with) - the classic layback. It may not have as high of a base score but it's definitely the epitome of ballet on ice. Definitely underrated in the code of points especially considering how it pushes flexibility, stamina, and balance all at once. Then again, so do most spins. But you've got to admit that doing it well takes a spectator's breath away.

The small audience waits on baited breath and he knows he's done it right.

An unsettling calm takes over him - a part of him dying with his friend's dreams.

Yuuri feels sick with himself because maybe he hadn't realised it until now but now he can see that Fausto has always put him first. He's always spent much more time with Yuuri, even outside of class to help him perfect this FS. It's not like it's a very technically complex program, focusing mostly on spins and step-sequences: in other words, his strengths.

Maybe it's knowing that this is a career-propelling performance, maybe it's knowing that if he messes this up his dreams may be dashed - maybe this is why it's his best run-through to date.

And even when the most difficult elements come up, he soldiers through them - although the feeling of dread still hangs like stale air over his head. Unlike at his first competition, this dread doesn't cause him to stumble or trip; it numbs his bones and makes his movements feel mechanical. He imagines a ballerina inside a jewellery box wound up and up and up.

That feeling stays with him until the music ends, and he doesn't let himself celebrate despite – theoretically – knowing that he’s just skated an unbelievably clean program.

At the kiss and cry, Fausto pats him on the back when his score is released.

 

> KATSUKI, YUURI: 1ST (FS 48.01, novice B)

“But what about you?” Yuuri can’t help but ask. Fausto’s job is as a skating coach – how is he supposed to do that with no ice rink and no students? 

“Don’t worry about me,” Fausto laughs, “I have a wonderful family who will be glad to see me hang up the skates to focus on them a little more.”

Fasuto's brother holds out a hand to Yuuri and he shakes it with little hesitation.

“After today’s performance, I’m prepared to see you through to end of this season,” Celestino offers, “we’ll see how we get along and if you choose to extend our partnership, I’m sure I’d be happy to have you as a student.”

“We'll see how we get along?" Yuuri's not sure to make of that, does that mean his last student quit because Celestino was too harsh on him or something?

"Oh! Well yes, you see me and my last student clashed a little personality-wise. It was fairly unprofessional - _as unprofessional as you can expect self-proclaimed royalty to be_ \- but I don't see that being a problem here."

Self-proclaimed royalty? That skater certainly sounds interesting.

"You don't?"

“Do you refer to yourself in third person and have a personal catchphrase you use whenever you end a conversation?” 

“Not that I'm aware of?”

“Then I think we’ll get along just fine.”

And get along just fine they do.

Yuuri places fourth during the Japanese Novice National Championships (but beats his personal best with a FS score of 50.19).

When he finally takes first place again in the men’s B class at the Saga Figure Skating Competition (SP: 33.23), it marks the beginning of a podium streak as Yuuri places second at not only the Central Japan Figure Skating Championships (men's 3-4 class) but also again in his final competition of 2005: The Saga Governor Award Championships (SP 39.29, FS 63.14, TOTAL 102.43, men’s B class).

* * *

The day Ice Castle closes for good it’s raining slow and gentle, covering the earth, and shrouding the sky with a grey pall.

Despite the weather providing them with a movie scene backdrop, the ordeal is not even half as dramatic as Yuuri thought it would be.

The rink is open one day – families taking their kids in for one last dance; Yuuri, Yuuko and Takeshi messing about on the ice like they used to (before training made things awkward and disciplined, and the competitive atmosphere created a chasm between the trio) – and then the next day it’s not.

A small crowd of regulars gather outside the rink, hoping the doors may just open once more. Yuuri joins them but his mind isn’t on whether or not the doors will open, he’s not _that_ deluded.

The pressure is on Yuuri now like it wasn’t before. Celestino had given him an ultimatum a week ago. Now it was all up to him.

Should he stay or should he go?

It would be foolish to give up now, right?

 _“Athletes, regardless of the sport, share a common trait: an unwillingness to give up, persistence,”_ A voice that sounds suspiciously like his ballet instructor infiltrates his brain. _“That is what drives elite athletes. No athlete I know would give up by choice.”_

Yuuri wishes he was one of those people who just knew the right choice to make, or had no qualms about making the wrong choice. Instead he sits like a chess player, anticipating every possible outcome of his next move, postponing everything in suspension until he's certain of a decision. He doesn't know if he should leave or stay, if he really is stupid or not, if he's talented enough. If he's even got what it takes. But he does know that he can't possibly just give up, or else he's not a real athlete.

He's just been playing pretend as an athlete if he runs away at this stage before really making something of himself.

“You’re taking Celestino up on his offer then?” the real Minako asks from his side.

She’s also decidedly not deluded.

Minako doesn’t expect the doors to open either.

Yuuri thinks she’s just here for confirmation, confirmation that Ice Castle really is gone. And he knows why. The rink had always been more popular than the dance studio, and the closure of the rink marks the potential end of ballet classes too.

Her scent is strong today. Vodka. Gin. Maybe some whiskey. The scent of alcohols coming off her breath is a little jarring, but he’s seen her after a few benders before. Never midday though, at least not that he can recall.

There’s a pregnant pause before he answers, “I haven’t decided yet.”

There’s one tiny little problem with Celestino’s offer: location.

Although Yuuri would be comfortable with leaving Hasetsu for training – he’s not so sure that he’s ready to leave Japan. He’s only just turned thirteen, barely even a teenager at all.

“You need to make a choice,” Minako lectures him, wobbling a little, and the man beside her wrinkles his nose. He can smell it too. Yuuri imagines that they all can. They all just kept their mouths shut. Yuuri can hear the woman behind him whispering to her daughter about why the nice lady smells like daddy sometimes.

Without saying another word, Yuuri tugs on her sleeve and leads her back to Yu-topia. They’re doing no good just standing there like lemons anyway.

Luckily, it’s fairly quiet, a slow morning for customers with only Viktor manning the place when Yuuri and Minako enter. Yuuri’s glad – Mari would give Minako and earful she really doesn’t need right now and his parents would… Yuuri’s not sure what his parents’ reaction would be.

Yuuri understands Minako’s reasoning even if he disagrees with her methods of coping. She gets that look in her eye sometimes when she thinks Yuuri’s not watching her. Yuuri’s seen that look before. It reminds him of the very same expression which occasionally creeps onto Viktor’s face. It’s always a bit distant, like looking past, but at the same time there’s an intense yearning for something, something not quite within reach. Gatsby and his green light – Yuuri can’t describe as anything but a look of _forfeit_.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her speech slurring just a little. Viktor smiles at her politely and brings her over a glass of water.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri feels his mouth say the words at the same time as Viktor does but Viktor’s response is a little drier, more curt. He seems angry at Minako for a reason Yuuri can’t place. Maybe it’s because she’s supposed to be the responsible one?

“You,” Minako looks at Viktor pointedly with recognition in her eyes, “I _know_ you – you could help,” she pauses. Yuuri can see the cogs in her mind turning as she tries to figure out the right word. Her lips round. He thinks she might have wanted to say “him.”

Yuuri turns to give Viktor a sympathetic glance to apologise for her gibberish. Minako speaks more Dutch than sense when she's had a few too many (she doesn't know any Dutch). Except as Yuuri turns to look at Viktor, he looks torn. It's like the garage thing multiplied by a million.

Viktor looks like he’s fighting with himself – and losing.

For the first time in five years, Yuuri's suspicions are raised again... just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources/clickables/hey did you knows?:
> 
> \- I know the main competitions have both a FS and SP but the novices often only have a single program like in canon YOI when Yuri and Yuuri compete in Hot Springs on Ice  
> \- Competition info researched online but I couldn't find a whole lot of local/regional competitions, it's really hard to find info on ones that aren't directly linked on the ISU website and then obviously Hasetsu isn't a real place but apparently it's based off [Karatsu](http://www.crunchyroll.com/anime-feature/2016/10/22/feature-anime-vs-real-life-yuri-on-ice) in the Saga Prefecture so I based Yuuri's regionals off there  
> \- inspired by some of Yuzuru Hanyu's wiki page [specifically his early life](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuzuru_Hanyu#cite_note-24) fun fact: His home rink closed due to financial problems, reducing his training time after the 2004 Japan Novice Championships and didn't re-open until 2007.  
> \- I'm honestly not sure what year Yuuri was born as it wasn't stated on his [wikia](http://yurionice.wikia.com/wiki/Yuuri_Katsuki) but I figure if I base it off 2017. He's 24, so November 29 1993? He'd only be around 11 while competing in the 2003-4 Novice Championships but since it's only the B (lower level) and Hanyu competed at 10 I figure it can't be too unbelievable.  
> \- I had no idea Celestino used to coach JJ??! I found that little tidbit of info out on the YOI wikia  
> \- "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" is a song by the Clash that I seized the opportunity to reference here because I really liked 'Stranger Things'  
> \- Paraphrasing my favourite Christmas movie 'The Santa Clause' ["when Yuuri and Mari have their little sibling spat over whether seeing is believing"](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Cit-vvTkJy0)  
> \- A fair bit of scoring/versus when a competition is only FS/SP taken from [Shoma Uno's results](http://www.isuresults.com/bios/isufs00012455.htm)  
> \- [SP music](https://youtu.be/p79JYE2jkzw)  
> \- [FS music](https://open.spotify.com/track/2RWKekfp5736ok2X0ekUYA?si=a3k3LHtC)
> 
> This is all fictional (AKA not to be taken too seriously) but if it really irks you that I got something horribly wrong or my SPAG makes you want to die assert your superior knowledge below

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/Astelso) or [tumblr](https://astelso.tumblr.com)


End file.
